


Spirals of Light

by tigerbright



Category: Dark Is Rising Sequence - Susan Cooper
Genre: M/M, Meet the Family, Yuletide 2006
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-31 04:39:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerbright/pseuds/tigerbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for: feelshiny in the Yuletide 2006 Challenge<br/>by tigerbright</p><p>Many thanks to Llassah and Temaris for beta reading, and to Feelshiny for requesting a story that was already percolating in my brain. :)</p><p>http://yuletidetreasure.org/archive/30/spiralsof.html</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spirals of Light

Will looked around the table bemusedly. First Christmas holidays from uni, and somehow his family had all assembled from the various corners of the world. Even Stephen had somehow managed to get leave... but then, a captain in the Navy could pull more strings than a lieutenant. And there were in-laws and even a few small nephews and nieces scattered up and down the huge table, all beaming at one another. And beside him, a hand closed around his under the table, and golden eyes twinkled.

"Thank you for inviting me, Mr. and Mrs. Stanton," Bran said cheerfully. He looked around. "I think there are more people in this room than there were in my class at Twywn Grammar, and that was more kids than I'd ever seen in one place before."

"Twywn's not *that* small," Will protested.

"But I notice you're not saying your family's not that big, then." Bran grinned at him, and spooned out green beans for the small girl on his left.

Gwen took the bowl of beans from Bran over the head of her daughter. "Not quite so much; she'll never eat all that lot." She grinned at Will, and added. "I couldn't believe how hard it was to persuade Will that we really wanted to meet you...I know you've met Mary before, but Will shouldn't have let that put you off!"

"To be precise," Will remarked, "you said, 'We never see you at holidays any more, because you're always off in Wales visiting Bran, so bring him down here for once, give us a chance to meet him!'"

James laughed. "You left out me telling you that we already knew you two were going out."

Will blushed. "That did make it rather easier, yes." He looked up the table at his mother. "Though, getting a double bed for Christmas was rather a surprise."

Mrs. Stanton laughed. "Blame your father and Barbara for that one. And thank Barbara for being before you in coming out - though with ten of you, I suppose it was the law of averages."

"Courgette bread, anyone?" Mr. Stanton asked.

Mary groaned. "Dad, are you still trying to get rid of that stuff? It's *December*."

"Deep freezes are marvellous things. And the rabbits can only eat so much of the courgettes, they need a balanced diet."

"More than the humans can eat," Mary retorted.

Mr. Stanton laughed lightly, and turned to Bran. "Bran, you mentioned wanting to see my shop. I actually have to go in tomorrow to pick up one of the gifts I hid from my clever wife, and I'd be happy to give you a tour."

"That would be brilliant," Bran said at once. "Will's shown me pictures of some of your work, and I've been dying to know how you do it."

"Like metalwork, do you?"

"I do, very much. Not exactly deft at doing it, for all my reading about art history."

"Reading's not exactly how one learns metalwork, lad."

"Let's just say that my father despaired of my even being able to cast a horseshoe, and was rather relieved when I insisted on going to university rather than following in his farming footsteps."

"Children do rather go different paths than one expects," Mr. Stanton agreed. "I thought Will would be a musician, but he's certainly a good historian, and I expect we've got a fair bit of music in the family anyway."

"That's right, Will told me about your carolling tradition. So when are we going out carolling tonight?" Bran asked brightly.

Looks were traded up and down the table, and then Paul said, "We haven't gone carolling all together in years; seemed we always had something to do."

"It's a brilliant idea," James said. "We never get to sing any good old Victorian tunes at college."

Paul looked wistful. "I didn't bring my flute..."

"Even if I believed that," James retorted, "which I don't, I know exactly where your old flute is, the one you had before Miss Greythorne gave you hers."

"We can't really drag ourselves all over town," Gwen protested, snuggling the small child who had crawled into her lap.

"Why not?" Max, who had been exchanging whispers with his wife, looked up, surprised.

"The kids are tired, and..."

"So we'll sing here."

Before Will knew it, he found himself helping to clear the table, then sent off to check if the piano was still in tune or if it would just be the flute. Bran, herded by Paul's son while Paul went to hunt up his flute with James, followed.

"Uncle Will?"

"Yes, John?"

"I learned a carol in school."

"We'll sing that one first, then." Will looked up as everyone crowded in. "John wants to start, and we'll join in and help him. Go on, then."

"Good King Wenceslas..." John sang, and they all joined in. Will found images tumbling through his brain, memories of Light and Dark and the Old Ones who had taught him. He thought of Merriman, whom he still missed, of poor Hawkin, of the Greenwitch, of the Grey King, of the Lost Land where he and Bran had journeyed, of the final battle when the Light won... and left.

Bran, Bran who could not and did not remember, squeezed his hand, seeing the pain in his eyes. Will remembered, too, the summer after that journey, when they went with Owen to comfort John Rowlands on the anniversary of his wife's death, John who must never remember who his wife had been.

After trading jokes with Will and finally seeing a smile on John's face at their clowning, Bran had absently slipped an arm around Will. They held hands on the walk home, behind strict-chapel-Owen.

"Da, I'm just going to walk up to the farm with Will."

Owen looked up at the boys. "Staying over again, is it? Mind you're back early enough to help me with the sheep, not like this morning."

"We will," they chorused, and raced each other up the path.

That was the night of the first surprising kiss, before Bran went to the guest room.

"And now we're here," Will said aloud.

"Uncle Will!" John stamped his foot.

"I'm sorry, John. Start the verse again?"

"Sire, he lives a long way hence,  
Underneath the mountain,  
Right against the forest fence,  
By Saint Agnes' fountain."

Bran sang, in his rich baritone, "Bring me flesh and bring me wine  
Bring me pine-logs hither..."

Full circle, Will thought, watching them. No, a spiral. Life goes forward, as it should be.

**Author's Note:**

> Upon rereading, I think I should have left out the courgette bread.


End file.
